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‘Look. I’ve got something to tell you,’ said William finally.
She pulled away from the embrace and looked at him nervously. ‘What is it?’
‘I’ve made an appointment with Dr Flasco. Right now he’s the best fertility specialist in America.’
‘Oh Willi
am, we don’t need a fertility specialist,’ she said flatly.
‘Honey, we’ve been trying for nearly eighteen months and nothing.’
Paula looked away. ‘We haven’t exactly been trying that hard.’
‘Well, that wasn’t for lack of me trying,’ he said with a laugh.
She glanced back at him, wondering if he was making a point, telling her that he knew. No, that was not William’s style, although, should he choose to complain, she really couldn’t have blamed him; their sex life had dwindled to almost nothing and, when they did have sex, Paula wasn’t exactly enthusiastic. She didn’t want to encourage him. Of course, there was little chance of her falling pregnant because of her hormone injections, but her doctor had warned her that she should not take them for longer than eighteen months – a period that was drawing to a close. What would she do then? She took a breath to compose herself.
‘We’ve had this conversation time and time again, darling. I wanted a gap between the twins and the next one.’
‘The twins are six, Paula. Do you want them to be starting college before we try again?’
She flashed a look at him. ‘Don’t push it, William.’
The smile fell from his face and she felt a stab of guilt. The poor guy didn’t know the full story, how could he?
‘It’s fine for you,’ she said quietly. ‘You don’t have to go through the pregnancy, the nine months of worry, terrified that there will be something wrong, worrying when they kick, worrying when they don’t. And it only gets worse when they are born.’
‘But honey–’ he began, but she cut him off, snatching the photograph up from the table and showing it to him.
‘Look at them!’ she interrupted. ‘The twins are beautiful, precious; we have two beautiful girls. You hear so many horrible stories. Birth defects. What if something awful happened … ’
She felt sick just thinking about it. She knew she fretted more than she should about her girls and that her concerns were bordering on neuroses. How many times when they were small did she creep into the nursery to check they were breathing, putting her fingers underneath their nostril to feel their reassuring warm breath? She did not want to go through it all again. She couldn’t.
‘Honey, I know you are just being a good mother, but you are being a little dramatic.’
Her husband put his hand in his jacket pocket and pulled out an envelope, throwing it onto the table between them.
‘What’s that?’ asked Paula.
‘A weekend at The Point. This weekend.’
She gave a weak smile. The beautiful Adirondacks resort, one of the most exclusive hotels in America, was where he had taken Paula for their first weekend together. She thought back to how she had reeled him in: she had played it perfectly, using all the tricks in a woman’s arsenal. Not answering his phone calls, being elusive when it came to pinning dates down, not having sex for the first three months. William was an uncomplicated man, but he was a man, and she knew that he had loved the chase.
‘I’ve arranged for the girls to stay with my mother,’ said William with a soft smile. ‘Louise will go too of course.’
Drawing close to her husband, she kissed him lightly on the cheek.
‘Thank you, darling, it will be wonderful,’ she whispered, thinking – no, swearing – that there was not chance in hell that she would become pregnant again, however many romantic mini–breaks William arranged. If she had to keep taking the contraceptive injections beyond the recommended limit, then so be it. Whatever it took, she was never going back there. Never.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
At eight thirty a.m., Tess was on her way to an appointment with Meredith at her home on Ninety–Third Street, a wide grey townhouse, not dissimilar to the ones Tess used to dream about owning in Kensington. A uniformed maid opened the door and led her into a large high–ceilinged living room. Although Tess could not identity Biedermeier furniture, Meissen porcelain, or Aubusson rugs when she saw them, she knew enough to tell that this was one of the most expensively and tastefully decorated homes she had ever been in. Meredith entered looking refreshed and glowing, her blonde hair set like pale gold candyfloss around her face. She was wearing an elegant powder–pink dress, grey lizard–skin court shoes and a long sapphire necklace. Perhaps a little overdone for so early in the morning, thought Tess, but then elegance doesn’t happen by mistake, does it?
‘Have you had breakfast?’ asked Meredith. ‘I can ask Marlene to do pancakes.’
Tess held up her hand. ‘No thank you, I’m fine.’
She had put on four pounds since she had arrived in New York and was now desperately trying to get them off. How was anyone expected to keep trim in New York, when every corner sold bagels and pretzels and every deli had long counters of noodles, pizza, and creamy potato salad? Still, everyone she met was so slim and well groomed. The secret, she supposed, was complete self–control, something she’d never been that good at when it came to food. In the Asgill office, she had never seen the girls eat anything more than a couple of pieces of sushi the size of a postage stamp. To eat in New York was obviously a sign of weakness.
